Besides Chidori Senbon, there existed another long-range variation—Chidori Sharp Spear.

Unlike the needle-like precision of the senbon, the Sharp Spear extended the Chidori’s lightning into a spear-shaped form, capable of striking mid-range targets with terrifying speed and accuracy.

If Chidori Senbon was the long-range evolution of Chidori, then Chidori Sharp Spear was its deadly middle-ground—balanced, lethal, and direct.

Kitazawa planned to teach it to Sasuke once he had mastered the Senbon form. With his current Two-Tomoe Sharingan and Kakashi’s personal guidance, it should take him no more than half a month—perhaps a month at most.

After demonstrating Chidori Senbon, Kitazawa returned to his own training ground.

As usual, he formed hand seals and summoned two Shadow Clones.

One clone supervised the Genius Class students’ ninjutsu training; the other corrected their chakra control drills.

Kitazawa himself moved to an open clearing and began training.

Since unlocking Mastery-level Yang Chakra Nature Transformation, his learning speed had skyrocketed.

He estimated that by the end of this month—or early next month at the latest—he would fully master the creation rebirth.

Once he did, his regenerative ability would border on immortality.

As long as his chakra reserves held out, even fatal injuries would mean nothing.

And his chakra capacity now reached Two-tails—enough to sustain massive-scale regeneration for hours.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

More chakra meant more possibilities.

He hoped the system would soon trigger a new mission to help expand it further.

By noon, Kitazawa finally stopped.

“Kitazawa-sensei, come eat!”

A familiar voice called from across the field.

Ino was waving enthusiastically, her bright smile framed by the sunlight.

Ever since joining the Genius Class, Ino had taken the role of unofficial lunch coordinator. Normally, Hinata was the one who came to fetch him, but lately, the two seemed to take turns—something Kitazawa pretended not to notice.

“We’ve already set everything up,” Ino said proudly as he approached. “We’re just waiting for you, sensei!”

“Well done,” Kitazawa replied, reaching out to pat her lightly on the head.

Not far away, several picnic blankets had been spread out with six small tables neatly arranged.

Hinata, who had just finished placing the utensils, glanced over at the gesture—her soft lavender eyes glinting faintly with envy.

“Let’s go,” Kitazawa said, sitting cross-legged on the blanket.

Hinata immediately moved to his left, sitting quietly with her bento box in her lap, cheeks slightly pink.

Just as Kitazawa reached for his chopsticks, something crossed his mind.

“You guys wait a moment.”

He stood up and headed toward the far side of the training field.

Kimimaro, Jugo, Tayuya, and Haku were still hard at work, drenched in sweat.

“Alright, that’s enough for now,” Kitazawa called out, clapping his hands. “Lunch break. Resume training this afternoon.”

“Lunch break?”

Tayuya blinked, momentarily thrown off.

In Otogakure, there had been no such luxury.

Training—or fighting—lasted until you dropped. Eating was optional; survival was mandatory.

Kimimaro and Jugo also looked surprised. The Genius Class really was too soft compared to the Sound Village.

“Did you bring lunch?” Kitazawa asked.

“I did,” Haku said politely, raising his hand.

He had picked up the habit of carrying bentos from his days training in the Anbu and never broke it.

The other three, however, shook their heads.

They hadn’t even considered it.

“Make sure you bring one next time,” Kitazawa reminded them. “We eat lunch here every day.”

He recalled that Nono prepared meals for the children at the Konoha Orphanage daily—but since there were too many mouths to feed, most simply picked them up from the cafeteria.

Apparently, Kimimaro and the others hadn’t bothered.

“Well,” Kitazawa sighed, pulling out several sealed bento boxes, “today you’ll eat what I made.”

He handed one to each of them.

He always carried food—partly for emergencies, partly for rewarding students… and partly for Hinata, who often forgot to eat when training.

“I’m not eating that,” Tayuya muttered, glaring suspiciously. “Who knows what you—ouch!”

She yelped and rubbed her forehead.

Kitazawa’s finger flick was precise as ever.

“Eat what you’re given,” he said evenly. “If you don’t, forget about seeing Orochimaru again.”

Her expression froze instantly. She bit her lip, then looked away, muttering, “Tch… fine.”

“Good. Now come along.”

Kitazawa turned and started walking back toward the picnic area.

Kimimaro and Jugo exchanged a glance. Both felt awkward.

In Otogakure, bonds didn’t exist—only rivals waiting to kill you.

This kind of open camaraderie was… alien.

“Hey, Kimimaro! Jugo! Over here!”

Naruto’s voice cut through the air. He waved them over, his grin as bright as ever.

He scooted to the side of the blanket and gestured at the empty spot beside him.

“Sasuke, move over a bit,” he said, elbowing his rival.

“Hmph,” Sasuke muttered but shifted just enough to make space.

“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura called immediately, seizing her chance. “You can sit here instead! There’s room next to me!”

“No need.”

Sasuke didn’t even glance at her, his tone perfectly neutral.

Sakura deflated instantly while Ino smirked from across the blanket.

Kimimaro sat down silently, Jugo beside him, and Haku followed with polite composure.

For a moment, there was an awkward pause… and then Naruto laughed, breaking the tension.

“See? Not bad, right? Eating together like this makes everything taste better!”

Tayuya stared at her food, pretending not to listen—yet a faint warmth spread through her chest.

For the first time since leaving Otogakure, she didn’t feel like an outsider.

And Kitazawa, watching from where he sat, couldn’t help but smile faintly.

This… he thought, is what a true classroom should look like.

Kitazawa glanced at the two boys sitting side by side—Naruto laughing loudly while Sasuke pretended not to care—and suddenly remembered that infamous moment from his previous life:

the accidental NaruSasu kiss.

If I could somehow recreate that… would it help Sasuke awaken his Sharingan faster?

The thought made him snort under his breath.

Realistically, it wouldn’t work. Not anymore.

Both Sasuke and Naruto were far too strong and alert now; there was no way either would fail to dodge.

And even if he could orchestrate something like that, it would be more trouble than it was worth.

Getting caught setting up an accidental kiss between two of Konoha’s rising stars? His reputation would never recover.

Besides, Sasuke might not even be emotionally primed for the Three-Tomoe Sharingan yet.

There was still time. No need to rush.

Even without it, Sasuke stood a solid chance against Kimimaro.

Still, Kitazawa decided he’d have Kakashi give the boy a round of focused training this month—especially in taijutsu and kenjutsu.

Kimimaro’s greatest advantage lay in Shikotsumyaku—his kekkei genkai of bones—and his raw taijutsu.

Where ordinary fighters used flesh against flesh, Kimimaro fought with hardened bone against skin and muscle.

That alone made him nearly invincible in close quarters.

Fortunately, Sasuke wasn’t a pure taijutsu fighter.

“Kitazawa-sensei.”

A gentle tug at his sleeve pulled him from his thoughts.

Hinata stood beside him, eyes lowered, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

Everyone around the picnic blanket was waiting, bento boxes unopened, glancing expectantly at him.

Right. In Konoha, it was polite to wait for the teacher’s cue before eating.

Kitazawa smiled faintly. “Alright—let’s eat.”

“Ittadakimadu!” Naruto exclaimed instantly, already tearing open his bento lid.

“Ittadakimasu!” the others echoed, laughing.

Only Kimimaro, Jugo, and Tayuya remained still, uncertain.

They’d never experienced this kind of group meal before. In Otogakure, food wasn’t something you shared—it was something you fought for.

Still, they mimicked the others, though awkwardly.

Twenty minutes later, everyone was done—except Hinata and Choji.

Tayuya blinked, staring at the petite girl beside Kitazawa.

“…?”

That tiny frame was hiding a black hole for a stomach.

Her disbelief turned to awe as Hinata quietly polished off another serving, cheeks faintly pink but expression serene.

Even Kimimaro and Jugo exchanged looks.

They could understand Choji’s appetite—his clan was famous for it—but Hinata?

Ino caught their expressions and giggled. “Classic reaction. We all thought that the first time too.”

“Hard not to,” Shikamaru added with a lazy smile.

“I wish I had Hinata’s metabolism,” Sakura sighed dramatically. “Then I could eat whatever I wanted.”

“Same,” Tenten agreed, shaking her head.

Kitazawa smiled quietly to himself, letting the laughter continue before he excused himself.

He found Kakashi near the edge of the training grounds, flipping through Icha Icha Paradise with one hand while supervising from the corner of his eye.

“I need your help with Sasuke,” Kitazawa said without preamble. “Kimimaro’s Shikotsumyaku taijutsu is… formidable. I want Sasuke ready for him.”

Kakashi looked up, one eye curving. “Already planning their match-up, huh?”

“You know the Kaguya Clan. He’ll need more than speed to win.”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle his regimen.”

After lunch, the Genius Class students headed back to the academy to rest.

Kitazawa returned to his office—and paused at the door.

Sitting elegantly on the sofa, legs crossed, was Konan.

Her posture was immaculate—back straight, knees together, mask set neatly on the table beside her.

Even in simple clothing, she carried an air of composed grace, like a painting that had come to life.

She was reading. The documents spread across her lap were the ones he’d given her earlier—basic economic theory from his previous world.

“Any insights?” Kitazawa asked as he approached.

Konan looked up slightly. “They’re… fascinating,” she said, searching for the right word. “The concepts are entirely new, yet they describe reality perfectly. It feels like reading the hidden logic behind how nations move.”

She frowned faintly. “But… why economics? For a shinobi?”

Kitazawa smiled. “Because you’re the only one I know who could actually understand it. And because knowledge like this isn’t just power—it’s wealth.”

Her amber eyes softened, a rare hint of warmth flickering within. “…Thank you.”

“No need for thanks,” Kitazawa said casually, waving a hand. “Consider it an exchange. I teach you economics… and in return, you let me borrow something.”

Konan tilted her head. “Borrow… something?”

“A pillow.”

She blinked. “A… pillow?”

“I’m going to take a nap,” Kitazawa said seriously. “But a regular one won’t do. A lap pillow would be perfect—you can keep reading; I won’t disturb you.”

Konan froze. “A—lap—?”

He looked at her expectantly.

After a long, tense two seconds, she sighed quietly. “…Fine.”

She sat upright again, smoothing her skirt, and patted her thigh lightly as if dusting off invisible lint.

Kitazawa lay down on the sofa, resting his head gently on her lap.

The warmth of her skin radiated faintly through the fabric—soft, yet firm. The faint scent of paper and lavender hung in the air.

Konan looked down, her face unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something—perhaps to tell him he was facing the wrong way—but she said nothing.

Instead, she picked up her papers again, her expression serene and focused.

Kitazawa’s gaze, half-lidded, rested on her abdomen.

Her composure was impeccable, and her calm presence made for the most peaceful sleep he’d had in days.

“Wake me up in thirty minutes,” he murmured.

“Understood.”

Soon, his breathing steadied.

Time passed quietly.

“Kitazawa,” Konan said softly after a while. “Ten minutes left.”

He stirred, sitting up automatically—and his head bumped into something soft. Warm. Plump.

“Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted calmly, not even flinching.

Her voice was even, but the faint pink dusting her cheeks betrayed her composure.

“I’ll head to class now. See you later,” Kitazawa said smoothly, pretending not to notice her subtle disarray.

As he left, Konan glanced down at her lap, expression faintly complicated.

She could still feel the lingering warmth against her skin.

And despite herself… she didn’t entirely dislike it.

The afternoon training resumed as usual.

But Konan, for the first time in a long while, found her thoughts wandering.

And Kitazawa, for all his calm, was beginning to wonder if “economics lessons” were turning out to be far more effective than he’d planned.

As the sun dipped below the rooftops, the last rays of gold stretched across Konoha, signaling the end of another school day.

“Kitazawa-sensei, goodbye!”

The students of the Genius Class waved enthusiastically before scattering in different directions.

In an instant, only Kimimaro, Tayuya, Jugo, and Haku remained behind.

“How was your first class?” Kitazawa asked, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“Very… free,” Kimimaro answered with his usual calm.

“It’s too lenient,” Tayuya muttered with a snort. “This kind of soft training will never make anyone strong.”

Kitazawa chuckled quietly. He had often wondered how children like her could remain loyal to Orochimaru despite enduring such brutal upbringing. Now, watching her bristle in peaceful surroundings, he finally understood—the Sound’s cruelty hadn’t shaped strength, only dependence.

“This class will surprise you when the monthly exam comes around,” he said lightly, tapping her forehead. “You’ll see what real strength looks like.”

Tayuya rubbed her forehead, pouting but saying nothing.

“Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

They made their way through Konoha’s lively streets, the evening breeze carrying the faint laughter of civilians and the scent of roasted chestnuts.

Halfway down the road, Tayuya’s eyes locked onto an ice cream shop window. Her throat moved instinctively.

“September’s probably the last good month for ice cream,” Kitazawa said, amused. “I’ll treat you all.”

Tayuya blinked. “Really?”

“If you don’t pick a flavor, I’ll pick one for you,” Kitazawa warned.

She immediately dashed inside. “I’ll choose myself!”

Kimimaro, Jugo, and Haku hesitated only briefly before following.

Kitazawa bought himself chocolate. He considered bringing some home for Kurenai but realized it would melt before he got there. Then he glanced at Haku.

“Haku, make a few ice cubes.”

“Yes, sensei.”

With a simple hand seal, Haku’s chakra shimmered, forming perfect crystalline cubes of ice. Kitazawa nestled a vanilla cone among them and sealed it in a scroll—a small trick to preserve a small token of love.

When he turned back, Tayuya was already eating, a rare smile on her face as her eyes softened with genuine delight.

Compared to the bleak, gray world of Otogakure, Konoha felt almost unreal. Sweet. Peaceful.

She didn’t say anything—but for the first time, she didn’t want to go back.

After walking them to the orphanage, Kitazawa waved and turned toward home.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. “I’m home.”

Before he could even take off his shoes, a whooshing sound filled the air.

Kurenai appeared out of nowhere, her hand clamping around his wrist. seals surged briefly from her fingers before flickering out.

“It seems,” Kitazawa said calmly, finishing with his shoes, “you still haven’t mastered the Self-Cursing Seal.”

“Tch… I’ll get it this year!” she snapped, frustration flashing across her face.

“I thought you’d say this month.”

“I’m not you,” she shot back, half a glare, half a grin. “If I had your talent, I’d have mastered it already.”

“I don’t have that much talent,” Kitazawa said with mock seriousness.

Kurenai rolled her eyes. “If you’re not talented, then no one in the entire Shinobi world is.”

Kitazawa laughed, taking her hand gently and leading her into the living room. “Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“Or maybe you’re a freak,” she countered, though the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her tone.

“I brought you something.”

He sat on the sofa and unsealed the scroll, revealing the vanilla ice cream resting perfectly preserved between ice cubes.

Kurenai blinked, surprised. “You even kept it cold?”

“It’s Haku’s Ice Release,” Kitazawa said casually. “I just borrowed his technique.”

She smiled faintly and took a small bite. The chill hit her tongue, making her shiver slightly. “That kid’s jutsu is really handy.”

Kitazawa watched her, leaning back. “How is it?”

“Sweet,” she said softly, glancing up at him. “Too sweet, maybe.”

He smiled. “Then I guess it suits you.”

Their eyes met for a moment—warm red against calm gray. The air between them felt thicker somehow, full of unspoken words.

Kurenai looked away first, her voice quieter. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the evening outside.

Kurenai took another small bite, her expression thoughtful. Kitazawa’s gaze lingered just long enough to make her heartbeat quicken.

Finally, she set the half-finished ice cream on the table. “You always know how to make things complicated.”

Kitazawa chuckled, the kind of low laugh that carried both mischief and fondness. “You say that every time.”

“And every time,” she said with a sigh, “you prove me right.”

He smiled but didn’t reply, watching her quietly as the sunlight faded through the window.

Neither of them spoke again. They didn’t need to.

Outside, the last rays of dusk slipped behind the Hokage Monument, leaving the house bathed in soft twilight—warm, still, and entirely theirs.

——————————–

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